


It Doesn't Matter If The Stars Forget Us (Written by Alan)

by SAMC_Inc



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: High School AU, Larry high school, M/M, larry drabble, larry fluff, larry imagine, larry is love, larry kiss, larry parents fighting, larry sad, larry short story, parents fighting AU, this is v innocent okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAMC_Inc/pseuds/SAMC_Inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry hates the sound of screams echoing down the hall, and loves the feeling of Louis's arms around him</p><p>Or better yet, the time Harry wont answer his phone because his parents are fighting so Louis hops through his window, smooths his feelings back where they belong, and answers Harry's questions about his first kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Matter If The Stars Forget Us (Written by Alan)

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written by me (Alan) for the sole fact that my parents were fighting (and I love Larry tbh)

The only sounds Harry was able to distinguish were the harsh sniffles from his own dribbling nose, and the screams ricocheting from down the hall. His mom and dad were at it about something or other, and he found himself in an all too familiar position. He was laying in the middle of his bed, staring upwards at the ceiling as the few tears that managed to escape his jade eyes rolled past his temples and onto his comforter. His phone lay untouched above his head, his hands folded tersely against his stomach. The device gave a persistent buzz every once and a while, and the curly headed boy knew he should check it, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Louis was probably beginning to worry. The older boy had a tendency of doing that, especially when Harry ignored his messages.

As if on cue with his thoughts, his phone began to buzz in longer successions. Louis was calling, and Harry gave an exasperated sigh. He knew that if he didn’t answer, the older boy would be at his window within minutes, blue eyes seething as he’d climb through the frame. Harry grappled for the buzzing device, thumbing through the passcode and pressing the receiver to his ear.

“Hmm,” he grumbled, unable to make any other attempt at conversation.

“You hummed at me,” Louis’s pointed out, voice clipped to a chirp as if he were offended by the gesture. Harry could practically see the older boy twirling a stray pen or pencil anxiously. Louis was probably in his room, probably doing homework, or maybe he was staring at the wall beside his bed that was covered in polaroids. Harry was about to brush off his faint noise as tiredness, but then there was a loud crash from the other room, and he gave a tell tale whimper.

“Sorry,” the younger boy squeaked, fighting down the quiver in his voice as he heard his father yell something of a vulgar effect.

“Harold-“

The younger inhaled sharply, the shake of his breath leaving the boy on the other end releasing a softening sigh.

“I’ll be over in five.”

Harry gave something of an appreciative whine, hanging up the phone after the blue eyed boy had done so as well. His heart gave a habitual nervous flutter at the thought of Louis being around his parents screaming match, but then he remembered that the older boy was used to this. Louis had crawled through Harry’s window far too many times for this to be abnormal. The sandy haired boy had a habit of wanting to comfort the younger, and Harry suspected it had something to do with the array of younger sisters that Louis had dealt with. The green eyed boy was in no position to complain, either. Louis was ideal at comforting, something about the way he smelled mixed with the gentleness of his touch made for a perfect combination of consolation.

Just as promised, four and a half minutes later Harry’s window was sliding upwards with a quiet creak. The younger boy didn’t even bother moving from his spot as Louis hoisted himself through the frame, landing with a graceful gallop of his feet. He shut the glass back into its rightful place, the muffled sound of his labored breathing the only noise Harry could focus on. Heavy breathing, that meant Louis had ran here in the freezing temperatures. The green eyed boy craned his neck to gape at the older, taking in the flush that hugged the harsh edge of his jawline. He was wearing a baggy gray sweatshirt and a pair of black joggers, yet he still managed to look ravishing. Though Harry was probably biased in that area; he always thought Louis looked stunning.

“So what’s the problem,” the older boy crooned, toeing his way out of his sneakers. His question was punctuated by an extra high pitched screech from Harry’s mother, his lips drawing back in a sympathetic wince. It was when the blue eyed boy cringed that Harry finally realized the severity of his parents fight. The younger boy felt a fresh stream of tears pooling at his eyelids, and he quickly covered his face with his hands. Louis tsked. 

“Stop staring at me,” Harry whined, sniffling in between every other word.

“How would you know I’m staring at you if you’ve got your eyes hidden away?” Louis teased lightly, the sound of his voice drawing nearer the bed the younger occupied.

“You always stare at me,” the younger grumbled.

“And rightfully so.”

The bed sunk directly above Harry’s head, a Louis-sized dip caving into the mattress. The younger scooted decidedly closer to the blue eyed boy, resting his head in the middle of the older’s lap. Louis gave a breathy laugh, thin fingers petting the younger’s lush curls this way and that. He started humming something, a tune to go along with the symphony his fingers were playing. It sounded familiar, slow-

I’m a bad boy, ‘cause I don’t even miss her. I’m a bad boy, for breaking her heart.

“That’s my song,” Harry mumbled, peaking through his fingers at the older boy. Louis was grinning stupidly-who would be grinning at a time like this?-his fingers dusting against the younger boy’s carelessly. 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s Tom Petty’s song, covered by John Mayer-“

“But I showed you that song,” he insisted. His hands were miraculously removed from his tear stained cheeks, only to be entangled with Louis’s a moment later. He realized then why the older boy was grinning, because he’d sneakily won a small victory. Harry thought for a moment about wrenching his grip away in defiance, but then he realized how nice the warmth radiating from the blue eyed boy’s grip felt against his fingertips. Also, he was caught in the impossible length of Louis’s eyelashes, asking himself over and over if they dusted his cheekbones when he blinked.

They did, Harry watched it happen.

“Indeed you did,” Louis chuckled, resting their entangled digits against his knees. The reason the older boy was present was forgotten for a moment as they looked each other over, hearts pounding relentlessly as they drew in broken breaths. Harry licked at his lips nervously, a bad habit he’d acquired from the anxiety he underwent during math class. His chest felt the same kind of restricting squeeze whenever he was around Louis, but somehow it was a lot more pleasant. They could’ve stayed like that forever, taking each other in, but Harry’s parents had to ruin the moment with an unceremonious thud against the wall. The younger boy groaned.

“What could they possibly be arguing ‘bout at this time of night,” he whined, turning his head to glance at the clock. It was nearly midnight.

“Sounds like your sister, they only throw things when they fight about your sister.”

Harry’s attention whirled back to the older, eyes widening at him. An embarrassed blush crept up Louis’s neck.

“Sorry, I’m just observant,” the blue eyed boy chuckled, dropping his chin nervously.

Harry didn’t even bother arguing with the statement, nodding in agreement as he fluttered his eyes shut, running the pad of his thumb against the back of the older’s hand. Louis was easily one of the most observant people he’d ever met. After hanging around the kid for a month, the older knew exactly how he liked his coffee, and what his favorite sweater was. He knew how to tell if the younger boy was upset, and if he was upset, what it was about. Though it seemed the sandy haired boy wasn’t as observant with everything else, his main interests being in things that had to do with Harry and his life. The green eyed boy was always told by everyone that this meant Louis had a ‘thing’ for him, as in Louis liked him. Harry was unconvinced. Well, he usually was anyway, until moments like these when Louis was sitting in his bed in the wee hours of the morning stroking his hair. Then, then he was rightfully confused.

“Lou?” the younger piped up, the nervous flutter he often got in his chest making an appearance.

“Yes Hazza?”

“Will you lay with me?”

The older boy gave a half hearted roll of his eyes at the request, attempting to hide the pleased smirk that tilted his lips. Louis slipped his fingers from Harry’s, removing his lap out from under his head. The younger boy sat up and crawled further up the bed, darting under the comforter to wait for Louis. The blue eyed boy followed close behind, first shedding his hoodie before pulling back the edge of the blankets. Louis slipped in, his strong body smoothing against the length of Harry’s and making both of their exhales stutter. It didn’t take long for the pair to mold against each other, Louis’s small frame somehow managing to consume Harry’s. The irony of this was not lost on either of them; they were both highly aware of their height difference. It was times like these though, when Harry was falling to pieces, that it wasn’t their heights that mattered. In the end, Louis’s age and domineering attitude won out, and the curly headed boy was thankful that the other was able to offer such a safe and secure feeling.

“Your skin is really warm,” Harry mused, his words muffled against the dip of Louis’s collar bones. He drug his fingers back and forth across the curve of the older boy’s bicep, pretending not to notice when he felt the other’s heart speed up.

“Don’t know why, it’s bloody freezing outside,” the older teased, sighing into Harry’s curls as he focused on the way this felt. He swore he could feel the way the younger was breathing, the pattern of it anyway. If he stilled his own inhales for a moment, he could feel the steady rhythm of the green eyed boy’s gasps. It was calming for some reason, especially when their pace slowed with each stroke of Louis’s hand down his spine.

“You didn’t have to come,” Harry pointed out, curling into Louis as if to say he was wanted here, “especially not if it’s that cold outside. What if you get hypothermia?”

“ ‘M not going to get hypothermia babe,” Louis laughed, his choppy exhales getting lost somewhere against the top of Harry’s head. The younger boy smiled, pressing his forehead against the blue eyed boys chest as if to hide his flustered reaction. He curled his fingers into the fabric of Louis’s tank, his nose overrun by the familiar smell of the older’s Versace cologne. It was hypnotizing, and Harry was 100% sure that the smell alone was enough to intoxicate him. It wasn’t just the cologne though, it was the way Louis pressed his lips against the top of his head, and the way he stroked his fingers just under the hem of Harry’s shirt. It was the warmth that emanated from him when he smiled with his teeth, and the sound of his laugh-

Harry would give anything just to listen to Louis laugh.

“Louis?” Harry hummed, sounding a lot more childish than he’d originally hoped.

“Yes love?”

“How many people have you ever kissed?”

Silence ensued, and Harry tried not to squirm as he wondered if the question was too personal. He felt as though it wasn’t, especially since they were currently wrapped up under the covers of his bed. How much more personal does it get?

“Well,” Louis began after he’d cleared his throat, “there’s definitely been a few. Only a few of them have really mattered really-“

“Tell me about the ones that mattered.”

Louis ceased the movement of his fingers against Harry’s skin for a solid second or two. He was pretty sure his heart stopped along with it, which is terrifying for more than a few reasons. He bit the inside of his lip, thinking to himself to intense his shoulders. Before Harry could form the words that Louis didn’t have to say anything he didn’t want to, the older was swallowing the silence and diving in head first.

“Well I guess there’s been three then,” he laughed, trying to keep the nerves out of his tone as he started moving his hand again, “My first Homecoming football game was freshman year, and I specifically remember going with this girl named Alex. She was really short, and had this ratty, brown hair that never stopped growing, and a pair of eyes that were just a shade lighter than black. I kissed her under the bleachers after we’d run away from all of our friends just so that I could remember that night.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Yeah it definitely worked, I’ll never forget getting her red lipstick smeared everywhere. Neither will any of her friends probably. The second happened just last year around the time of junior prom. I asked this girl named Eleanor, and instead of just saying yes, she kissed me. The only reason that one’s special is because I just remember her having really soft hands, and really nice lips. She was just very gentle, and unlike anybody I’d ever been with ever.”

A familiar pang of nerves sprung through Louis’s chest, a remembrance of something he didn’t want to remember. There were only a handful of people that knew about the last one he’d planned to mention, leaving it as only the couple involved, and the few kids who caught them in the act. There was almost a heartache at the memory, but then Louis remembered that the other person involved wouldn’t so much as bat a lash in his direction. Also, how could someone be heartbroken over someone who doesn’t give a flying fuck when they’ve got someone else so perfect huddled against their chest?

They can’t, or better, they shouldn’t.

“What’s the third,” Harry mumbled, nuzzling his nose against the hollow of Louis’s neck as if to ease out the words.

“It was a few months ago. His name was Zayn, well, I guess his name is still Zayn,” Louis said with a nervous laugh, “I’m not exactly sure how it all started, but basically we were at this party, he had been invited by Liam who we’re both really good friends with apparently. The moral of the story is, we got drunk, we made out, a few other things happened, and then he went on to pretend like I didn’t exist. I don’t know why that’s such a big deal, I mean it’s just a drunk kiss right? But it hurt like hell, and he’s a fucking tool, and-“

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, green eyes peering up at the older. Louis realized how rigid he’d gone, the tail of the younger boy’s shirt caught in his grip. Instead of looking worried or even angry, Harry gazed at him with this look of utmost understanding. It was disarming, and Louis felt the need to apologize for being a dumbs himself. He bit his tongue though, reminding himself to say something about it later.

“Anyway, he doesn’t really matter. What about you, how many people have you kissed?”

A light dusting of pink flushed across Harry’s cheeks, and Louis only caught a glimpse of the color before the younger boy was covering his head with the comforter.

“Harold, you’ve never-“

“Leave me alone,” he groaned, holding the fabric over his curls as Louis tried to remove them. The older boy rolled his eyes haphazardly, shifting to his knees quickly to get better leverage of the blankets. It turned into a wrestling match after that, Louis versus the comforter. Although Harry had the height, the older boy was more defined in muscularity, and it wasn’t long before the green eyed boy was visible from his shins to his salmon colored cheeks.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before,” Louis teased, wrestling the younger boys hands away from his face. He wrapped his thin fingers around Harry’s wrists, working to pry them off.

“Pretty sure we’ve made that fact clear,” he spat, wriggling way from the older. It was hopeless at this point, Louis had him in a death grip. It wasn’t long before Harry’s hands were pressed to the mattress on either side of his head, and his shy emerald gaze was left to latch to Louis’s

“Sweet little baby Haz hasn’t ever kissed a girl,” Louis crooned, a cocky smirk raising the corners of his mouth.

“You’re an asshole, let me go.”

“Not even on the playground in grade school? You never kissed Morgan Johnson? Everybody has kissed Morgan Johnson.”

“God no,” Harry spat, rolling his eyes at Louis for even thinking such a thing, “if I were to kiss any girl, which I have no interest in doing, it would not be her. Especially not now, she’s a right whore.”

The older boy rested back on his haunches, releasing his grip slowly. Harry didn’t bother moving his hands, or his eyes. He felt there was no where comfortable to place either. Louis contemplated his next words carefully, not wishing to send Harry crawling under the covers again. He laid down beside the younger first, back against the mattress as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you want to kiss anybody,” he mused, managing to sound as if it were a casual question between friends-

It wasn’t. It couldn’t be, not at the rate his heart was racing.

“Seems like a dumb question,” Harry mused, folding his hands against his stomach. He was hyper aware of Louis’s side pressed against every inch of his, and he was trying not to say something he’d regret later.

“Why is it stupid?”

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter who I want to kiss. It’s not like they’ll ever want to kiss me, so why would I even imagine it?”

Louis rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand as he bit the inside of his lip. He knew what he wanted to say, he just didn’t know how to say it. Or maybe that wasn’t it, maybe he did and he was too afraid to put himself out there.

All sounds from the other end of the house had gone silent.

“What if that person also wants to kiss you,” Louis asked, staring purposefully at the shadow Harry’s eyelashes caused on his cheeks. No way was he about to look the younger in the eye, though he could feel the persistent green stare on him.

“Then I guess they’re going to have to make the first move, because there’s no way in hell that I’m going to kiss someone without knowing they have the ability to reciprocate my feelings for them.”

“For someone who’s never kissed anyone, you sure feel strongly about it,” Louis pointed out. Then Harry was blushing, and the older was so far gone that he didn’t have time to stop himself from running a dust of his finger tips over the fringe hanging low over the younger’s eyes. He could feel Harry’s breath against his skin, and the beat of his own heart hard against his ribcage, and maybe he would’ve leaned in if their wouldn’t have been a knock at the door.

“Harry, you in there?” Anne called, trying the handle only to find it locked. The blue eyed boy felt the younger withhold his groan of frustration, but he had to laugh because Mrs. Cox might’ve just saved him from making the mistake that ruined a friendship-

So why did he feel so disappointed.

“Yeah mom,” he groaned, “do you need something?”

“Your father wants you to come eat dinner with us. Be downstairs in a few.”

The sound of footsteps retreating echoed against the wood in the hall, leaving Louis casting fleeting looks towards the window, and Harry casting fleeting looks at Louis.

“I think that’s my cue,” the older joked, attempting to make it seem as though nothing had just happened. He slipped from the bed quickly, not even bothering a glance backwards as he slipped into his hoodie. He stumbled across the room and slid into his sneakers, turning to face the younger boy once more before shifting the glass.

“I guess, erm, text me,” he chirped, latching his fingers around the frame of the window. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, and only felt the hand on his shoulder as he was halfway out the window. There was a quiet ‘wait’ from the younger boy, and Louis gave an unsteady glare backwards before soft lips were pressed against his.

The shock from the event nearly sent the pair of them reeling to the ground, but Louis managed a hand on the frame and another on the side of Harry’s neck. The familiarity of the cold wind nipped at their exposed skin, but neither of them could pay attention to anything besides the fire racing across their chests. Harry’s lips were softer than would’ve been expected, but he held such a pressure that Louis had to remind himself not to part there lips and devour the younger for everything he’s worth-

That was for a later date.

Harry pulled away first, a dazed expression running across his features to match the flush of his cheeks.

“I guess that’s your cue Romeo,” he breathed, squeezing Louis’s arm as if that was the only way he could really communicate what he was thinking.

It spoke volumes.

“Well, I bade the goodnight then Juliet. Just promise not to die anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then he was gone.


End file.
